Grow up, Run and Stumble
by Kristina Ubriacco
Summary: The destiny remainds different ways...Don t you think, Sasuke-kun?


Disclaimer: The original characters used on mu fanfiction are propiety of Masahi Kishimoto

Hellouu everybody!! I´M BACK! well writting on my original language...kukuku...

Enjoy that

Her Lust, His Love

Dammit, she was tired of living like this. Lovers by night, filled with lust and sexual pleasures, strangers by day, cold and unforgiving. She hated them, these one night stands. She hated the men she was with every night, seeking in them comfort and protection, hoping that maybe her search was over, only to be disappointed in the man, her feelings, and herself. She promised herself it wouldn't happen anymore, but it did. She couldn't help it; she was addicted to sex, sue her. The nights were great, she has to admit, but she hates herself in the morning, waking up next to a man she doesn't even remember leaving with, sticky with his seed. The infinite pleasures to quench her lust, but the ultimate price she pays with.

Her soul. Sometimes, she considers just killing herself, get it all over with. But she isn't a quitter; she won't give up that easily. Drink, just drink. Lap dance? Sure, she was plastered enough. Strip? No, she was much too classy for that. Buy you a drink? Of course, who doesn't want a free shot? Have sex with me? I thought you would never ask. The summary of her life. She hated it, like the men. Their beady eyes looking her once over, lust driving them to her will. They were putty in her hands. They knew it, she knew it, the whole damn world knew it with one look at her body.

Sin. So what? She wasn't a religious ass. Stick it up your cunt and get over it, that was her policy. Do what you need to survive, screw the bible. Screw the people around you, they don't know, they don't know you at all. Why waste your time with them? Live for yourself, only yourself. People weren't to be trusted. Only you can save you from yourself. Then why was she still looking for him? The one who she could trust herself with; there was no such man, he was a prince, a prince from a far away fairy tale that your mother read to you when you were a little girl. When she cared.

Change. Everyone goes through it, why make such a big deal when it happens? Indifference is the key, the key to life, to sex. She can't fight it, she can't fight anything without indifference. Or change. Yes, change was the most important part. She had to change herself, bend herself to the will of men. To get what she wants, she must change. New hair, new clothes, new name. New identity. She isn't herself anymore when she entertains a life like this. But she needs something new, something other than those nights, those terrible nights that kill her a little more on the inside. Anymore nights like those and she would be completely dead, a shell of her former self. And that's not what she wanted. She wants a family. Yes, a slut like her wants a family. Got a problem with that? Fuck you, then.

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Sasuke rubbed his temples tiredly. He really didn't want to be here, listening to Kakashi drone on about something useless. He had a terrible hangover, which was partly his fault, but partly Naruto's. He had been the one to suggest the damn club in the first place.

"You agree, Sasuke?" Kakashi asked sternly. Sasuke's head shot up, but he regretted it almost instantly. He clutched at it, no longer able to hide his discomfort.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he mumbled. Naruto groaned from the table where he had been sleeping comfortably but had jerked away at Kakashi's tone. It was the last time he took shots with the Uchiha on a weekday. Kakashi sighed at the two.

"Well obviusly the only ones who are listening here are Neji and Shikamaru," he said, glaring at the two hungover boys. Neji raised a hand.

"Uhh, sans the Neji," he grumbled. Shikamaru shook his head at his teammates.

"Immature," he whispered under his breath. Kakashi sat up.

"Fine, just go, I'll tell you the important news that may or may not change your lives later," he huffed angrily. The four jerked to attention immediately.

"What? Another sighting?" Sasuke asked, trying not to wince at his volume. Kakashi sat back down.

"Yes, but it's tricky; the leader here is someone we've never seen before, we can't find anything on him. All we know is that his name is Saigatou, and his gang are a lot called The Demons. We have no way of knowing anything about them. We barely know all of the member's names. So we're sending one of you to Tokyo to figure this out," Kakashi explained. Shikamaru nodded.

"Well it had better be me then, shouldn't it?" he said indifferently. Kakashi raised an eyebrow.

"Why you?" he answered. Shikamaru shrugged, sitting back. He hated explaining himself.

"Why not?" Shikamaru challenged. Naruto banged his fist on the table, and groaned again.

"Just send him, I'm tired of your yelling," he said hoarsely. Kakashi sighed. Now he felt as if he had a hangover.

"Fine, fine, but if Shikamaru goes, we will be traded a new member, someone from Tokyo," he said needlessly. They had been through this before. Loose a member, gain a member. Sasuke glared at their commander.

"Let's wrap this up, Kakashi," he growled. Kakashi sighed louder, wordlessly voicing his dissapproval of his latest drinking rampage. Fuck it.

"Fine, you may go. Report back here tomorrow at noon. I have more information to tell you," he adjourned, rising from his seat. The others followed, Shikamaru leading his friends out the door. One by one, they piled in Shikamaru's car, a new corvette he had purchased only a few weeks ago. He just hoped none of them upchucked on his new interior. Shikamaru clicked in the keys, revving the engine before taking off. Normally, they would be speeding down the interstate, but to avoid moans from his friends, he took it at a neutral fifty. He shifted to cruise, glancing at Sasuke, who was leaning his head against the window in the passengers seat.

"I warned you guys not to drink so much last night; hangovers kill," he chuckled annoyingly. Sasuke didn't bother to look at him. He just wanted to get home so he could figure out another way to work off his hangover other than sleep.

-X-

Sakura glanced behind her, sliding her sunglasses a little down her nose so she could see clearly. Not satisfied, she shifted them back to their original spot, continuing on her way. She readjusted her purse, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement. Her eyes were lidded heavily with last ngiht's eye shadow and her mascara was a tad smudged, but that's what glasses were for, right? She continued her pace briskly as she passed a dark alley. She didn't want to get caught in one of those at this time of day. Crazy shit happened in the shadows in this part of town. She forgot why the hell she had agreed to meet this mystery man here, this early in the morning. She glanced at her watch. 10:15. Perfect, she was late. She spotted her destination, sidestepping a broken beer bottle and the whistling men who had broken it. She entered the cafe, glancing around her. She stopped as a man raised two fingers and beckoned her. She bristled. No one beckoned Haruno Sakura. She acted as if she hadn't seen him and proceeded to the register. The man drummed his fingers as she ordered a coffee and flirted a little with the sweating cashier boy. She gave him a little wink and thanked him, sipping it lightly as she walked slowly to his table. Her legs looked amazing in the short shorts she was wearing, her breasts audible through her see through shirt. She sat down.

"You wanted to talk to me?" she asked simply, setting her coffee down. The man nodded curtly.

"You are being redeployed," he said, writing something on a piece of paper and sliding it over to her. She pouted.

"But I don't wanna leave, I love Tokyo! And where the hell am I going anyway?" she asked angrily, folding her arms. The man nodded towards the paper. She read the name. Konoha. What a weird name. She sighed. Oh well.

"When am I leaving?" she asked.

"In three day. I suggest you start packing," he said simply. Standing and placing a bill on the table. He put his opaque glasses on, exiting the cafe quietly. Sakura slumped in her chair. Her body shook with the prospect of entering a new town, with different men. She was really tired of playing her way up by playing her way into mens beds.

'Maybe this is different, maybe I'll find... him...' Sakura allowed herself to hope for a moment before she shook her head, laughing bitterly. He was only a figment of her imagination. She stood up abruptly, tossing the coffee cup into the trash, barely touching it. She exited the cafe; she had to get out, she needed to walk, to stop thinking. She always got herself into trouble when she started thinking. She looked down at her clenched fist, she unclenched it slowly, slowing her pace as she did so. It was the paper the man had handed her. Konoha. She smirked. It may yet prove interesting for her.

-X-

Sasuke pulled himself up again. He was sweating profusely, his head was reeling, but he didn't care. He always got those nightmares when he slept after a night of drinking. His mouth trembled as he pulled himself up again. Again. Again. His muscles bulged, his biceps straining to do his bidding. He let himself drop. He was panting, the sweat dripping from his every being. He swiped a hand across his brow, his legs shaking. He lowered himself onto the bench behind him. He glanced around the room. The home gym had been a stretch, in his opnion, but it was easier than making the commute from his home to the local gym. He grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and slung it around his shoulders. He rested his aching head in his hands. He knew he should be sleeping, for his healths sake. But it had been a while since he had cared about his health. He got up slowly, avoiding another head rush and walked over the the showers. He removed his shorts, turning on the faucet. He let the cold water rush over him, dousing his burning skin in the cold rivers of his memories. As the water fell around him, he remembered. Remembered the cold of the river as he had been plunged down into it, the unforgiving, merciless hand holding him down there until his world became black. He slammed a fist against the tiled wall. He shut the faucet off, stopping the water, stopping the memories. He let out the breath he had been holding. He looked into the deep blue tiles of the shower wall. After a few moments, he let his hand fall from the wall, turning on his heel and rummaging through the closet near the showers. He found a towel that he tied around his waist. He grabbed another and towel-dried his hair quickly before letting it rest around his shoulders. He pushed the door of his gym open, stepping into the pool room. He walked slowly towards the other end and opened yet another door. Light flooded in, burning his eyes and sending his head into another spinning frenzy. He was standing in the sun room. Of course. He opened another door to his right. Finally, he reached the kitchen.

"Seriously, the hell is with all these doors?" Sasuke mumbled to himself. He sat down on a barstool, resting his chin in his interlaced fingers. He stared blankly ahead, thinking about this new member. He personally liked Shikamaru; they had been friends since grade school, and didn't want him to leave. But it was for the good of the association. He stood up. He had sat down too long, let his mind wander too much. He walked up the grand staircase to the third floor. He passed six rooms before reaching his. He walked in, going straight to his closet to find some clothes. He passed the full-length mirror. He winced. He hated looking at himself. He had to remind himself to get rid of that damned mirror. He involuntarily glanced at his reflection. His raven-colored hair was beginning to dry, taking its naturally spiked form. His body, lean and muscular, was still wet. Yes, he looked perfect. A god. On the outside. Except for the scar the stretched from his shoulder across to his lower hip. He hated it, hated where he got it, hated what it had cost him. He turned away in disgust, rummaging through the racks of clothing, finding a black shirt with his clan's emblem on the back and a pair of black cargo shorts. He pulled them on quickly, giving his hair a quick shake before returning to his bedroom. He looked around restlessly. There was nothing for him to do. His eyes were dropping dangerously low, and he desperately needed an escape from sleep. He decided to sit on his bed as he thought of something to do.

'Damn, it's soft,' Sasuke thought, yawning. He layed back, but only for a minute. But his eyes began to close. He could fight it no longer. Soon, his eyes dropped into blackness. He was just getting comfortable when the doorbell rang. He opened his eyes reluctantly. He sighed, swinging his legs off the bed. The doorbell rang again. He grumbled. He jogged down the stairs, wanting to get rid of whoever it was quickly.

"Yes, yes?" he answered the door angrily. A soft giggle came in response.

"Dear Sasuke, you're still the same," a gentle voice said, a voice he remembered painfully well. He looked up into his mother's eyes. He blinked. No way.

"Mom?" he asked tentatively. She nodded, smiling. She opened her arms in an embrace. Sasuke was about to walk into it when something stopped him. A shadow darted in front of him. He pushed him savagely back into the house. He grabbed his mother's arm, her beautiful, delicate arm. Sasuke tried to cry out, to yell, but no sound would come to his throat. The shadow stroked the arm lovingly before ripping it off. The blood splattered Sasuke. Horrified, he couldn't look away. The shadow proceeded to tear off her other arm. The blood was pouring down in buckets. Through it all, the woman had not uttered a word. Silent tears were dripping down Sasuke's face as he remained stationary, unable to do anything but watch in horror. The many grabbed his mother's head, about to rip it off. He found his voice.

"No!" he shrieked. He sat up, tossing wildly about in his bed. He looked around him. It was dark out, and he was sweating again. He looked down at his shirt. No blood. His arms? Nothing. He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his damp hair. Another dream. A nightmare. He cried out.

"Stupid!" he yelled, banging his fist into the nighttable. It cracked under the pressure of his blow. With a thud, it fell to the ground, the legs shattered to pieces. He was panting. He stumbled to the bathroom. He yanked his shirt off, still breathing heavily. He stared at his face in the mirror. He bared his teeth. He never wanted to see his reflection again, never wanted to see his weak, disgusting face again. He punched the glass. It shattered to a thousand pieces, just like his life.

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TO BE CONTINUED............


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